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“
Have
you
got
a
place
where
I
can
lie
down
for
the
night
?
”
she
asked
.
Liff
came
up
,
leading
the
buggy
out
of
the
night
.
He
looked
from
one
to
the
other
with
his
feeble
smile
.
“
She
’
s
my
mother
.
She
’
ll
take
you
home
,
”
he
said
;
and
he
added
,
raising
his
voice
to
speak
to
the
old
woman
:
“
It
’
s
the
girl
from
lawyer
Royall
’
s
—
Mary
’
s
girl
.
.
.
you
remember
.
.
.
.
”
The
woman
nodded
and
raised
her
sad
old
eyes
to
Charity
’
s
.
When
Mr
.
Miles
and
Liff
clambered
into
the
buggy
she
went
ahead
with
the
lantern
to
show
them
the
track
they
were
to
follow
;
then
she
turned
back
,
and
in
silence
she
and
Charity
walked
away
together
through
the
night
.
CHARITY
lay
on
the
floor
on
a
mattress
,
as
her
dead
mother
’
s
body
had
lain
.
The
room
in
which
she
lay
was
cold
and
dark
and
low
-
ceilinged
,
and
even
poorer
and
barer
than
the
scene
of
Mary
Hyatt
’
s
earthly
pilgrimage
.
On
the
other
side
of
the
fireless
stove
Liff
Hyatt
’
s
mother
slept
on
a
blanket
,
with
two
children
—
her
grandchildren
,
she
said
—
rolled
up
against
her
like
sleeping
puppies
.
They
had
their
thin
clothes
spread
over
them
,
having
given
the
only
other
blanket
to
their
guest
.
Through
the
small
square
of
glass
in
the
opposite
wall
Charity
saw
a
deep
funnel
of
sky
,
so
black
,
so
remote
,
so
palpitating
with
frosty
stars
that
her
very
soul
seemed
to
be
sucked
into
it
.
Up
there
somewhere
,
she
supposed
,
the
God
whom
Mr
.
Miles
had
invoked
was
waiting
for
Mary
Hyatt
to
appear
.
What
a
long
flight
it
was
!
And
what
would
she
have
to
say
when
she
reached
Him
?
Charity
’
s
bewildered
brain
laboured
with
the
attempt
to
picture
her
mother
’
s
past
,
and
to
relate
it
in
any
way
to
the
designs
of
a
just
but
merciful
God
;
but
it
was
impossible
to
imagine
any
link
between
them
.
She
herself
felt
as
remote
from
the
poor
creature
she
had
seen
lowered
into
her
hastily
dug
grave
as
if
the
height
of
the
heavens
divided
them
.
She
had
seen
poverty
and
misfortune
in
her
life
;
but
in
a
community
where
poor
thrifty
Mrs
.
Hawes
and
the
industrious
Ally
represented
the
nearest
approach
to
destitution
there
was
nothing
to
suggest
the
savage
misery
of
the
Mountain
farmers
.
As
she
lay
there
,
half
-
stunned
by
her
tragic
initiation
,
Charity
vainly
tried
to
think
herself
into
the
life
about
her
.
But
she
could
not
even
make
out
what
relationship
these
people
bore
to
each
other
,
or
to
her
dead
mother
;
they
seemed
to
be
herded
together
in
a
sort
of
passive
promiscuity
in
which
their
common
misery
was
the
strongest
link
.
She
tried
to
picture
to
herself
what
her
life
would
have
been
if
she
had
grown
up
on
the
Mountain
,
running
wild
in
rags
,
sleeping
on
the
floor
curled
up
against
her
mother
,
like
the
pale
-
faced
children
huddled
against
old
Mrs
.
Hyatt
,
and
turning
into
a
fierce
bewildered
creature
like
the
girl
who
had
apostrophized
her
in
such
strange
words
.
She
was
frightened
by
the
secret
affinity
she
had
felt
with
this
girl
,
and
by
the
light
it
threw
on
her
own
beginnings
.
Then
she
remembered
what
Mr
.
Royall
had
said
in
telling
her
story
to
Lucius
Harney
:
“
Yes
,
there
was
a
mother
;
but
she
was
glad
to
have
the
child
go
.
She
’
d
have
given
her
to
anybody
.
.
.
.
”
Well
!
after
all
,
was
her
mother
so
much
to
blame
?
Charity
,
since
that
day
,
had
always
thought
of
her
as
destitute
of
all
human
feeling
;
now
she
seemed
merely
pitiful
.
What
mother
would
not
want
to
save
her
child
from
such
a
life
?
Charity
thought
of
the
future
of
her
own
child
,
and
tears
welled
into
her
aching
eyes
,
and
ran
down
over
her
face
.
If
she
had
been
less
exhausted
,
less
burdened
with
his
weight
,
she
would
have
sprung
up
then
and
there
and
fled
away
.
.
.
.
The
grim
hours
of
the
night
dragged
themselves
slowly
by
,
and
at
last
the
sky
paled
and
dawn
threw
a
cold
blue
beam
into
the
room
.
She
lay
in
her
corner
staring
at
the
dirty
floor
,
the
clothes
-
line
hung
with
decaying
rags
,
the
old
woman
huddled
against
the
cold
stove
,
and
the
light
gradually
spreading
across
the
wintry
world
,
and
bringing
with
it
a
new
day
in
which
she
would
have
to
live
,
to
choose
,
to
act
,
to
make
herself
a
place
among
these
people
—
or
to
go
back
to
the
life
she
had
left
.
A
mortal
lassitude
weighed
on
her
.
There
were
moments
when
she
felt
that
all
she
asked
was
to
go
on
lying
there
unnoticed
;
then
her
mind
revolted
at
the
thought
of
becoming
one
of
the
miserable
herd
from
which
she
sprang
,
and
it
seemed
as
though
,
to
save
her
child
from
such
a
fate
,
she
would
find
strength
to
travel
any
distance
,
and
bear
any
burden
life
might
put
on
her
.
